Plum Cake
by Chronic Potterphile
Summary: While the trio is camping after escaping the Ministry, Ron decides to do something special for Hermione on her birthday.


**DISCLAIMER: Nothing here belongs to me. All Queen Jo's awesomeness! :)**

**A/N: Many thanks to Ari/Royari for being a lovely Beta! **

**This fic has been written for the 2013 Greath Hall Cotillion at MNFF. My second fic will be about Cedric/Penelope (should be an interesting exploration... let me see how it turns out).**

**Reviews are love, and all guests can come back and find their responses added to the end of this document!**

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**Plum Cake**

The first thing that Ron felt and heard on the cool September morning was the distinct growl of his own stomach. He moaned and turned over in his blanket, hugging himself and shivering a little. His stomach groaned again, and he grit his teeth as he sat up on his bunk and started to rub his sleepy eyes with his knuckles. He couldn't complain about the hunger; Harry was already started to get irritated with Ron's constant whining about low food supplies, and if there was one thing Ron didn't want, it was a row.

He had constantly been on edge since the previous week. He felt especially hungry and irritated when it was his turn with the locket, and he dreaded those twelve hours every alternate day. Also, it seemed to be an unspoken decision that breakfast was a luxury they couldn't afford, as hunting down anything for lunch was hard enough; in the morning, they generally had only a cup of weak tea, as Hermione was saving the tea leaves to try and make them last longer. So the lack of breakfast spoiled Ron's mood sooner than normal and he often found himself fighting the urge to snap at Harry and Hermione.

"Oh, you're up," said a sleepy voice, and Ron peeked down at the bottom bunk to see Harry start to tuck himself in to get his quota of sleep. He had been on watch the previous night.

"It's your turn to get lunch today," Harry said to Ron again while he got comfortable. "I thought I saw a small village—"

"Yeah, I _know_," Ron interrupted him as his stomach grumbled again.

"Hermione has left you some tea," said Harry shortly, and Ron could make out that he was biting back a retort.

He bit back his own urge to ask Harry to spit out whatever he had to say, and nodded. "Okay. Where's Hermione?"

"Outside."

"Well, I bloody know that. I don't see her inside the tent, do I?"

"She's on guard."

Harry promptly pulled his blanket over his face and probably decided he didn't want to talk anymore. As he stretched and yawned, Ron was glad that Harry had decided to be the bigger person. He got off his bunk and made a beeline for the cup of tea that was kept on the small table. It had already lost its warmth, and Ron grimaced a little at the faded taste of tea as he swallowed the entire thing in one gulp. His stomach chose that moment to churn with hunger again and he almost swore out aloud.

Muttering obscenities under his breath, he put his hands in his pocket and walked out of the tent. He could see Hermione from here: she was sitting against a nearby tree, wrapped in a grey sweater and with a book in her hands. He walked up to her slowly and sat down next to her. "Hey, Hermione."

"Good morning, Ron," she said, smiling at him. "Slept well?"

"Okay, I guess."

"I've kept a cup of tea for you on the table…"

"Yeah, I've had it. Thanks."

"Has Harry gone off to sleep yet?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. She seemed hurt at his lack of interest in conversation; or perhaps it was his one-word answers— he couldn't say for sure. However, he stood up again. "I'd better get going."

"Where to?" she asked him.

"Well, we need food, don't we?" he said, going back into the tent to collect the Invisibility Cloak. When he came back outside, he thought she looked hurt again, and he felt sorry about being terrible with her. "See you," he called out, spreading open the Invisibility Cloak so he could cover himself with it.

She waved her hand, and then spoke out to him unsurely. "Ron…?"

"Hmm?" he asked, putting the Cloak over himself and turning around.

"You… oh." She bit her lips and looked about. "Oh, it's nothing. Bye."

"Bye."

* * *

Nothing. Absolutely no bloody thing.

Ron let out a string of expletives under his breath as he wandered about in the Cloak, searching for something they could put into their mouths today, but there was nothing.

He was starting to get tired of this. Harry seemed to have absolutely no idea of what he was doing, they were starving on a daily basis, and the bloody locket didn't add to pleasantness of it all. It was like a camping trip gone wrong: all three of them were perpetually hungry and on edge, and, to add to it, they were clueless about the Horcruxes. In addition, there was Ron's family. Harry and Hermione conveniently had their families out of harm's way (well _maybe_, Ron thought grudgingly, it wasn't that convenient for Harry, as losing your parents couldn't be nice at all). But they were still better off than he was.

He was tired of waking up from his sleep with that dreadful feeling in his head that one of his siblings or parents could be dead, or that their lives could be in more danger than they already were. He hated Harry and Hermione's private conversations, which made him feel like he didn't exist. He dreaded having to keep guard, to gather food, and to live with this fear, worry and anxiety. He wanted this to end. He just wanted this to end already.

Ron was still walking under his Cloak when he remembered the small village that Harry had spoken about. Of course. How had he forgotten about it? It was not far away from their camping site, but in a different direction to the one he was taking, and there was a good chance he'd come across some food over there. Cursing himself for his absent-mindedness, he clutched the Cloak tightly and spun on his heel.

He landed just at the spot where the village began. He could see one or two houses scattered here and there as he walked ahead into the village, in search of some place—a field perhaps, like the one they had got eggs and bread from. That evening had been so nice, and even though Hermione had worried that they were stealing, it was like a beacon of light among the rest of the terrible evenings. And Ron remembered distinctly… that was the day after they'd fled the Ministry— two days after Hogwarts had reopened. September the third. The first and the last day of the camping trip during which Ron hadn't starved. September the third… September—

Ron stopped dead on his tracks. No… no! What was the date today? If that day had been September the third… then he had counted ten days until his arm began to feel better… September the thirteenth… He counted the days, trying to remember how many nights had gone past, and realisation struck him. Today was September the nineteenth.

_Merlin's balls, it was Hermione's birthday._

* * *

Had Harry done something for her? Did he remember? Had Ron been the only one to forget? Would Hermione feel bad that he forgot? She had tried to remind him, but she seemed to have thought better of it. Maybe she didn't mind that he didn't remember? If he could wish her after going back, she'd know that he remembered her birthday, and it wouldn't be so bad, would it?

Ron went ahead, searching for food, deciding that he'd worry about those questions later. He needed to make sure first that, if nothing else, Hermione didn't have to starve on her birthday. He was in luck; he found a small bakery in a quiet corner of the village and, after setting off a Decoy Detonator to divert the little baker's attention, he surreptitiously managed to smuggle out a loaf of bread. He put some money in its place, even though he really didn't care; he didn't want Hermione to feel like they were stealing from someone.

He was walking back through the narrow lanes, enjoying the alone-time without the locket, when he spotted a small house with a plum tree in the yard. It bore large, ripe plums, and Ron could feel his mouth water even as he looked at it. He quickly glanced around the area and when he was sure that there was no-one around he pulled out his wand. _"Accio plums,"_ he whispered, and a few of them broke off their stalks and landed at his feet. He Summoned a few more and looked around again before picking them up and putting them in the small basket that lay there for collecting food.

The plums looked wonderful; Ron couldn't wait to eat them. He hoped Hermione liked plums; he didn't want her to have something she disliked on her birthday. However, he didn't think she'd mind very much, as having a full stomach on her birthday would be a luxury in itself. He was just about to Apparate back to their tent when he had an idea.

* * *

"Do you know that it's Hermione's birthday today?" Ron asked Harry, shaking him awake the moment he entered their tent. Hermione was still reading outside, and Ron was in a much better mood than he was in the morning due to the prospect of a good lunch and his idea for making Hermione's birthday special.

"Why would you wake me up for that?" Harry moaned, turning away from Ron.

"Oi! Don't sleep now; we have to do something for her if you haven't already!"

"I've already got her something."

"What? And you didn't remind me?"

"I thought you wouldn't need reminding. Now leave me alone."

"Wake up, you git, I've got food!"

"Okay, okay!" Harry turned over and sat up sleepily on his bed, proceeding to put on his glasses as he did so. His face brightened at the sight of the food that Ron had brought in and, immediately, his mood seemed to grow better too. "I remembered in the morning," he told Ron in a low voice. "Wished her too. Did you?"

"Remembered, but didn't wish her," said Ron. "I've got her a surprise. I'm letting her think I don't remember for now," he lied. Harry had remembered and he hadn't? This was terrible.

"Really? Wh- whaaaaat?" Harry asked, yawning.

"Watch where you aim that morning breath, mate," said Ron, scrunching his nose and sitting next to Harry on the bed. "What have you got her?"

Harry glanced at the entrance flap of the tent once before reaching out under his pillow and producing a branch. "Look."

Ron took it in his hands. "Er — a handcrafted wand?"

"No, it's a carving," said Harry sheepishly. "Look closely."

Ron squinted at the branch and barely made out a few untidily carved flowers and leaves. "Um… it's nice," he told Harry. "Creative."

"I know it's rubbish." Harry sighed, putting it back below his pillow. "Save the flattery for Hermione."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, it's rubbish. Sorry. But I reckon she'll appreciate it."

Harry chuckled for the first time in days. "What have you got her, then?"

"I'm making her a cake," Ron told Harry simply.

Harry chuckled again. "Good one, mate, but tell me what it really is." Then he noticed the expression on Ron's face and frowned. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I bloody well am. I'm making her a cake. You can help if you like."

"Sure, I will. Do you know how to make it? And how did you get the ingredients, when we can barely get _normal_ food every day?"

"Well, we can't make the proper thing, can we? But I've got bread and plums… so we can make her a… I'd like to call it a plum cake."

Harry looked at his watch. "We'd better get started, then. It's going to be lunch time soon." He groaned and stood up, stretching, as Ron placed the food basket on the small table.

"She doesn't know I'm back," he told Harry, "I still had the Cloak on when I entered. I don't want her to realise that you're awake either, so we can't be very loud."

"Sure… Do you know how to make toast without a toaster?"

"Um. I reckon we can just hold the bread over a small flame, right?"

"I guess." Harry shrugged. "But that isn't how Hermione made the toast that one time."

"I dunno how she did it," Ron replied. "I was injured, remember? I was asleep."

"Oh, yeah… well… I think she just lit a small flame on the stove and put the bread on the pan, and let it heat."

"Good, c'mon," said Ron, making his way to the small stove. He pointed his wand at it. "_Incendio_." A roaring flame sprout up on it, and, alarmed at this, Ron pointed his wand at it again, _"Reducio! Reducio!"_

The flame grew small enough and Harry placed the small pan on it as Ron started to cut slices of bread from the loaf. He cut four slices and placed two on the pan. They waited, Harry peeking over at the tent flap to make sure that Hermione wasn't coming back inside. After a minute, Harry spoke up. "I think it's time to turn over the toast."

"Okay," said Ron. They didn't have a spatula for it, so he picked up a bread slice with his own bare fingers. _"Oh my effing Godric, what the bloody f—!"_ He quickly turned it over and let go of it, blowing on his fingers. "You do the other one," he told Harry. "I'm not letting my fingers burn on all of them!"

"Okay," said Harry, and reached out for the other one, grimacing and biting his lip as he turned it over. "That's scalding!" Harry said, blowing on his fingers like Ron was doing.

"Yeah!" Ron agreed with him. "How does she even do it?"

They felt a mutual increase of respect for Hermione as they groaned at their throbbing fingers. Finally, they managed to get the two slices off the gas and put the other two on to toast. Once those were done, they stacked up the four slices on a plate, and cut up the plums into quarters, placing them on and around the toast. Finally, the plum cake was all done, and, as Ron stood behind the table to admire his creation, he couldn't help but grin to himself. He knew Hermione would like the gift. What would she do when she found out it was his idea? Would she kiss him? On the lips?

He was just going to ask Harry if they had any candles when there was a voice at the entrance of the tent. "Harry, Ron has been gone for long, and—" She stopped talking and gasped.

Ron looked up to see Hermione, still standing at the entrance of the tent, her jaw dropped and her eyes wide. She looked at Ron, at Harry, and then at the cake. "What-What is this?" she whispered, walking slowly towards them. "Is this for…?"

"Happy birthday, Hermione." Ron said to her grinning. "Do you like it?"

"Oh!" Hermione said, covering her mouth with her hand. "How…? Where…? Oh my God!" She came forward and simultaneously hugged them both. "I can't believe this— you two did this… for me? And—" As she broke away, she looked at their raw, red fingers, and her expression was soft. "You didn't have to go through all that pain! Oh, you two!" She hugged them again, tighter this time.

"Actually, it was Ron's idea," said Harry sheepishly, as they broke apart again. "I just went with the plan."

"Ron!" she sighed, looking at him tenderly. "And I thought you had forgotten!"

"Could I ever forget?" he asked her. Harry slunk away to another corner of the tent, and Ron could have kissed him for that.

She tilted her head slightly and smiled, her eyes tearing up slightly. "Thank you so much… It's just—it's my eighteenth birthday, and my parents would have been so happy. It's an important birthday in the Muggle world too." She sniffed, biting her lips and blinking away the tears. "I'm s-sorry…"

"Hey, your parents are safe, and that's what matters," said Ron, putting an arm around her. He suddenly noticed the locket hanging down her neck. "Why are you wearing that? It's your birthday. Give it to me."

Before she could protest, he lifted up the fine chain and got it off, and put it around his own neck. Immediately, his stomach let out a low growl, and he could feel the heaviness and despair start to creep up. "Go on," he said to Hermione, reminding himself that all of the dark feelings were more because of the locket than anything else. "Cut the cake."

Hermione smiled at him, but she didn't lean in to kiss him, or even to hug him again. She just reached up to his red hair and ruffled it adoringly. "Thank you, Ron."

"I didn't even steal the bread," he told her. "I left some money for the baker." That ought to earn him a kiss… one kiss.

She just smiled wanly. "That was very nice of you!" She looked beyond Ron's shoulder, at Harry. "Come on, Harry, let's cut the cake!"

"Okay," said Harry, getting up from his bunk. He gave Ron a glance which said that he'd tried, but Ron only felt like telling him that maybe he, Harry, should have left the tent for a while. Maybe Hermione would have kissed Ron then. Maybe she was conscious about the fact that Harry was around.

Meanwhile, Harry seemed to be contemplating something. Ron only realised what it was when the former hesitantly reached to his pillow. _Don't do it_, he thought. _Don't give her that bloody gift!_ However, Harry being no Legilimens, got out the branch and walked towards Ron and Hermione.

"For you," he told Hermione, shyly, handing her the branch. "It's not much…"

"Oh, Harry," she said, softly, taking the branch from him and examining it. "It's lovely!"

"It's terrible," he chuckled. "Ron's idea was much better."

_That's it,_ thought Ron. _Be the bigger man again. First my sister, then Hermione?_ He took a deep breath. This was the locket thinking for him. He didn't seriously think that Harry and Hermione were—well, that Harry was attracted to Hermione, or vice-versa. He had caught Harry snogging Ginny on Harry's birthday, hadn't he? Besides, Hermione liked him, Ron, and no one else. She had been beyond herself with jealousy when he was with Lavender. So it was obvious she had feelings for him.

Just then, Hermione leaned forward and hugged Harry tightly. "Thank you so much! I love it, Harry." She broke apart and planted a kiss on his cheek. "It's wonderful. Really."

Ron could feel his heart hammer against his chest as the colour rushed up his cheeks. He knew _exactly_ what was going on here. Hermione was on Harry's side— she liked Harry more. He, Ron, like always, was only an accessory, the shadow. He was the person who'd never even be noticed by the girl he lo—ugh, no, _liked_— had feelings for.

He found himself holding back an urge to hex Harry and Hermione apart as she put her arm around his waist and smiled at him. She held out her other hand to Ron and, when he took it, she pulled him close and stood on tiptoe before pecking his cheek delicately. He was still disappointed, but he grinned at her. Then he handed Hermione the knife and gestured to the cake. "There are no candles, but make a wish."

She nodded and shut her eyes, and all Ron could hope was that she was wishing for what he was wishing: for them to finally, finally get together.

**The End**

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**Hope you guys liked it! Reviews will be lovely. :)**

**Review responses:**

**Guest 1/20/13 . chapter 1**

Oh Ron :(  
Great writing, really captures his character well!

_Response: Yeah, well, that's what I was thinking all along, as I wrote this fic. Poor Ron. :(_

_I'm flattered that you love the characterisation, though. :D Thank you! :)_


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